


Wake up

by bloodandcream



Series: Ship all the Ships [123]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark, Drug-Induced Sex, Dubious Consent, Established Sam Winchester/Jessica Moore, F/M, implied past sexual abuse, kind of Sam/Jess/Cas, off screen scene negotiations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 09:55:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6951670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe she was the one that wanted it this way. Castiel has never met her. He’s seen pictures though. Just thinking about what he’d discussed with Sam warms the tight little ball of tension in his gut and sets it thrumming. Castiel thinks about ordering a beer to ease it further, but that would be a bad idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake up

Castiel fidgets with his tie and glances nervously around the dim interior of the bar. He feels incredibly over dressed and out of place. Loosening the knot, he pulls his tie enough to pop the top few buttons of his shirt. Folding his trenchcoat over his arm, Castiel weaves through the crowd, mumbling polite apologies whenever he bumps into anyone although they mostly just scowl back at him. Jeans and ripped shirts are more the norm here. The venue is … not quite what he expected.

Ordering just a water but tipping the bartender for a drink, Castiel finds a corner table to sit at and watch. Rock and country music plays from a warbly old jukebox in one corner and every pool table is busy. He certainly doesn’t mind meeting at a bar, but Sam’s sleek well-dressed exterior at work and his meticulous tidiness did not lend Castiel to believe a dive bar would be his chosen locale.

Maybe it’s hers.

Maybe she was the one that wanted it this way. Castiel has never met her. He’s seen pictures though. Just thinking about what he’d discussed with Sam warms the tight little ball of tension in his gut and sets it thrumming. Castiel thinks about ordering a beer to ease it further, but that would be a bad idea.

His Continental is parked out back, to the left of the squat cinder block building where there’s shadows, not too far from the door.

Checking his cell phone, Castiel sees a text from Sam. Coughing and smoothing down his crooked tie, Castiel picks up his empty glass and makes his way back over to the bar. Ah, there she is. He hadn’t seen her come in through the crowd. Wavy blond hair tumbles over her back and she’s wearing a knee-length white sundress.

Castiel already knows that Sam picked the dress out.

She’s never met him and Castiel is uncertain if she was shown pictures of him. But he does as he is told and sits on the cracked-vinyl stool next to her, trying to smile when she turns towards him and oh she is even more lovely in person.

“Can I buy you a Gin Rickey?” He asks.

Castiel does not miss how her eyes flick down over him, how she bites the bottom of her lip and smiles a little wider.

“I would love that. What’s your name?”

It’s hard to hear over the din of the bar but she’s sweet and pretty and Castiel leans in closer. “Castiel.”

She doesn’t offer a hand to him for a handshake, instead settles her warm palm over his thigh. “I’m Jess.”

He knows.

Castiel waves the bartender over, orders her drink, blinks nervously and startles when she catches the toe of her high heel at the back of his calf teasingly, sliding up over his suit slacks.

“You look a little out of place here,” she remarks.

“I suppose so.”

Castiel doesn’t have much else to say. He’s not very good with these sorts of things. Never has been. This is… this is not a typical Friday night. He doesn’t do this frequently. Or ever. But it had all made so much sense when Sam explained it to him. Another water arrives for Castiel with Jess’ drink. She doesn’t even take one sip before she’s sliding off her barstool.

“I need to use the powder room. Will you watch this for me?”

She’s leaning close enough to smell floral perfume and her soft hair brushes against Castiel’s cheek, shivers rippling down his spine from so little contact.

“Yes, of course.”

Jess sways through the crowd, tall and graceful. Castiel is left at the end of the bar alone with her drink. And a small plastic baggie in his pocket. Slipping his hand into his pocket, he flicks his thumbnail against the seam of the small baggie. The bar is crowded, but it’s dark and the bartender is busy at the other end with a rowdy group of women. Castiel pulls the little baggie out and there’s single blue and white capsule pill inside.

Glancing furtively around, he looks towards the door back out to the parking lot, and to the hallway to the restrooms. He could leave. Sam would probably shrug it off and invite him over for barbecue to introduce Castiel to his wife that way, instead. Or…

Slipping the little pill out and tucking the bag back into his pocket, Castiel hunches over the Gin Rickey and pries the capsule ends apart, white powder splashing into the drink, and he swears there’s a target about his head, that everyone will have seen, will know. Only, when he settles back onto his stool and pockets the empty halves of the capsule, swirls her drink, the rushing sound in his ears settles and nothing has changed.

Jess is smiling brightly when she comes back out, hair tousled messily over one shoulder, sweat glistening on her chest in that low cut dress and Castiel is very aware of the heat and the dampness beneath his shirt too.

“Thank you, sorry, where were we?”

Picking up her drink, Jess sips at it, lets her tongue linger on the rim, lips shining. Castiel has nothing to say. Humming, Jess finishes in several sips and sets the glass back down.

“Um. I believe, you had mentioned that I don’t quite fit in here.”

She laughs, something small and amused. “I did say that didn’t I? I didn’t mean anything bad by it, though.”

Castiel nods and gulps his glass of water. “I didn’t think you had.”

Swaying on her stool, Jess fans herself with one hand, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “It’s hot in here.”

“It is very crowded. Perhaps we should go outside for fresh air.”

Nodding, Jess stands, and Castiel wraps an arm around her waist when she lists to the side, hoping that she only looks drunk. She’s taller than he is in those heels. It’s strange. But she leans against his shoulder and brushes her lips along his ear, humming. Stumbling forward, Castiel guides her to the back. Jess grows heavier as they go, more uncoordinated. At least they are outside by the time she nearly topples. Castiel hefts her up and carries her the few steps to his car, fumbling with his keys to open the back and slide her in.

His heartbeat is going wild from adrenaline and his cock is rigid in his slacks.

There’s a pair of headlights following him all the way home. Castiel hadn’t even seen him in the bar.

Leaving the back door to his modest brick ranch unlocked when he carries Jess inside, Castiel elbows the kitchen light on and uses it to navigate her down the hallway to his bedroom. She’s heavy, dead weight, a high heel knocked off against the door frame, her dress sliding down her thighs, soft moan coming from parted lips as her head lolls.

Castiel lays her out on his bed, dark navy sheet made every morning and tucked in tight. There aren’t many personal effects in his room, everything tucked away in dark finished wood dressers. Arranging her on the bed, long smooth legs parted, dress skirts around her waist, there’s a little gold necklace he hadn’t noticed in the bar. A fine thin chain, a plain little crucifix resting in the dip of her throat.

Brushing the cross aside so that it is lost in the thick curls of her lush hair, Castiel cups her placid face and runs the pad of a thumb across her lips. Crawling up the bed to straddle her waist, he dips down and kisses her unresponsive mouth. He feels her chest hitch, a faint whine tumbling into his mouth.

Castiel freezes.

Sits up.

Her eyes move behind her eyelids. One of her arms is folded up beside her head and he sees the fingers twitch. Just barely. He’s not sure if he should give her longer, or if he should start now. Clenching his jaw, Castiel looks at her beneath him, still, all soft and beautiful and vulnerable.

He is a weak man. And he is sick.

Pulling his belt open, Castiel shoves his pants down and pulls out his erection, stroking himself furiously as rips the collar of her dress down to expose a breast. She isn’t even wearing a bra. Squeezing a firm breast, so warm to the touch even though she doesn’t arch up or cry out, Castiel groans as he shuffles lower and bends to lap at the pink stiff bud of her nipple.

The bedroom door creaks, opening only a little further, the hallway beyond dark. Castiel flinches, but he turns to her again. Laves across the smooth curves of her chest, nips at the skin and kisses the smattering of freckles. Lowering his ear over her breast, he listens to her heartbeat. Steady. Steady.

Whimpering, Castiel shoves off the bed and pulls his clothes off. Naked as the day God made him. He glances between her and the bedroom door. There’s a glint of white at eye level and Castiel looks away. He can’t think about that. He can’t think about any of this. He wants with an ache so rife with guilt and shame that the only way out of this is through it.

Clumsily, he finds his pants again and the condom inside the pocket, where the pill had been too. Rolling it on, and he hasn’t got much practice, he frowns at his own erection. Sometimes he wishes it would just fall off.

Carefully pushing her legs wider, Castiel drags his fingers up the insides of her thighs. Jess is wearing panties. Modest cotton briefs with little pink teacup roses and a lacy bow at the top. Groaning, Castiel ducks and shoves his face at the space between her legs, inhaling as he rubs his cheek against her heat, unable to keep his tongue in as he licks at the cotton. Dirty, dirty. She smells so sweet. Not like roses, no, like a woman does, like sex and the bloom of youth.

Rubbing his nose against damp cloth, Castiel takes shuddering breathes that shake down into his chest and realizes that he’s started to sob. Pushing up, he only pulls her panties to the side as he kneels between her legs and thrusts into her.

Her head moves. One side of the pillow to the other. Castiel freezes, deer in the headlights caught, bad boy, bad, bad, and he’s buried inside her while his heart is trying to rip out of his chest. Her breasts starts to rise and fall more rapidly. Lifting the hand that is awkwardly bent at her side, Castiel brings it up to her face and covers her eyes. Curling over her body, he works his hips slowly into her. Gently. Quietly.

He can still hear it. Still hear the sound of him fucking an unconscious girl. Mostly unconscious. She’s so wet and there’s no way not to make a noise when he sinks into her body.

It’s still better.

Better than the name calling and -

Her legs jerk where they rest over his thighs. There is a jagged stutter of her breath, picking up. Castiel panics. He fucks into her unresponsive body, takes what he wants, heat clutching around him so tight he could weep, wet and open for him. Burying his face in her chest, Castiel heaves and rolls and imagines himself a beast on hands as knees as he fucks through a juddering, overwhelming, all consuming orgasm that feels like death and rebirth simultaneously.

The hand over her face has moved onto the pillow and hazel eyes blink blearily at him.

Castiel goes very, very still and clutches the sheets under his hands. Just beyond the door there is a thud, choked off grunting, the wet sounds of skin and skin. Castiel bites his lip.

Pulling out of her, meticulously he removes the condom, ties it, shoves it back in it’s foil packet and buries that in a waste basket by the bed. Pulling his slacks and shirt back on, he hasn’t even buttoned when the door swings open.

Sam’s cheeks are flushed bright red and he’s still wiping his hand off with a tissue. The button on his pants is undone. Lust and fondness are clear on his face as he crosses the room to the bed. Straightening out Jess’ dress and stroking over the skin of her thighs, her breast, every right to touch is writ on his face in familiarity as he curls a strand of hair around her ear. Sam pulls a bedsheet from where it’s tucked and folds it over her.

Jess moans and twitches.

Castiel’s fingers are stiff working the buttons of his shirt back up.

Sam tosses his soiled tissue in the waste basket, glances at his watch. “Oh man, she’s going to be out for about another hour or so.”

Nodding, Castiel hums in acknowledgement.

They both stand there, and he very much wants to curl up inside himself and hide for a while. But apparently his friend’s wife is indisposed and it would be poor hospitality to do anything but let her sleep in his bed for the moment.

When Sam steps back from the bed, he turns towards the door, side eyes Castiel, turns back. "Hey, you alright man?"

Blinking, smoothing his hands down his now rumpled shirt, Castiel nods. "Yes. Of course."

A small frown flickers across Sam's face briefly, he shifts his weight from one foot to another.

Before he can speak again, Castiel ushers him into the hallway and asks politely, “Uh. Would you… like a drink?”

“Sure. Yeah," Sam follows, lingers, "And we should set a glass of water by the bed for her and turn the light out.”

“Alright.”

Castiel agrees because he has agreed to everything so far. Of course Sam doesn’t know how his skin is itching and he wants to scrub a few layers off in the shower at the moment. No, no this was only a casual discussion that Sam instigated about things that were mutually enjoyable for all parties involved, and yes, Castiel was very much intrigued at the idea of a woman who would not say anything to him, do anything to him. He thought it would feel powerful. That it would feel right.

But now he feels on the wrong side of things and he can’t do anything about it, except offer Sam a drink, and wait for her to wake up.


End file.
